


The Only Time

by bonesmctightass



Series: The Batjokes Collection [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Batjokes, Biting, Blood Kink, Drabble, Established Relationship, Foreplay, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Painplay, Roughness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 08:59:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19826821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesmctightass/pseuds/bonesmctightass
Summary: Parties are boring until they're not.





	The Only Time

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The Only Time by Nine Inch Nails. Meant to be read to the song.

The liquor was plentiful and the party was loud. There were a lot of people. A lot of bodies. But Bruce wanted the company of none of them. What he was really hoping for was a party crasher. It wasn’t normal. He was too loose, too open,  _ too sloshed _ . And yet, just the right amount of inebriated to be honest with himself about what he wanted. What he  _ craved _ . 

It was a gala for charity, but he wasn’t  _ feeling  _ charitable. He didn’t want to be a Wayne. Not the billionaire playboy philanthropist. Didn’t want to be Batman, not right now. Instead he just wanted to be Bruce. But he couldn’t. Not here. So he did the only thing he could think to do.

He got up and left. 

**_I’m drunk._ **

Outside it was dark and damp and just a bit chilly. Bruce stumbled out into the gardens behind the manor. Away from the noise, away from the lights, away from the painstakingly meticulously fabricated false image of himself. A stone bench between a thatch of shrubs would be the perfect place to take his solace. He sat. And he waited. 

“Hello, handsome. Come here often?” A voice said through the darkness. The tight knot in Bruce’s stomach eased slightly as the familiar lilt cut the silence. Sweet sickening relief. 

**_And right now, I’m so in love with you._ **

“You’re  _ late _ .” 

Joker laughed and sauntered forward in that ridiculous  _ too tight  _ suit. He looked like he’d just come off a job. The air around him smelled like gunpowder and acid. “Oh, Brucie boy.” The gangly clown leaned down and planted his hands on Bruce’s knees. “You know full well I can’t follow directions.” It was fascinating how such a lithe frame could hide so much strength. Even without the suit, Bruce’s bulk was easily twice Joker’s. “My, my. Hit the bottle tonight, have we, dollface?” 

**_And I don’t want to think too much about what we should or shouldn’t do._ **

This wouldn’t be nearly as alluring if it weren’t  _ wrong _ . “I didn’t invite you here to lecture me.”

“No,” Joker agreed. He eased ever downward, his height towering over Bruce where he sat. “You invited me here to  _ fuck you _ .” Then their lips were touching. It got out of control quickly, as they were apt to do. Messy and rough with too much teeth and  _ God _ , it was perfect. Joker grunted as Bruce grabbed his hips in a bruising grip. He swallowed the sound, wanted more. He wanted to be rough, wanted to  _ hurt _ . And Joker could take it. Got off on it, even. Joker was sick and twisted, masochistic. But so was he. 

**_Lay my hands on heaven and the sun and the moon and the stars._ **

“Eager beaver!” Joker cackled gleefully as they broke apart to breathe. He slid effortlessly into Bruce’s lap. Straddled his hips and wound his arms around his neck like a lover. Like he’d done this a thousand times. And he  _ had _ . “All of those silly little Gothamites. But not one of them suits your fancy like I do. Isn’t that right Brucie baby?” That red painted mouth spread into a self-satisfied grin before smearing itself along Bruce’s jaw. 

He wasn’t wrong. If he hadn’t had one too many martinis he might’ve tried to shut the man up. Maybe. “No marks,” Bruce warned as he felt Joker’s teeth slide along his skin. 

“Heaven’s no! It wouldn’t  _ do _ to have the big bad Bat walking around with hickeys, would it?” He giggled to himself and changed course. Bruce felt those thin fingers slipping under his dress shirt. Blunt nails dug into his skin and dragged angry red lines slowly down his stomach. “But anywhere prying eyes can’t see is  _ fair game _ .” 

**_While the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car._ **

That lit a fire in his belly like nothing else could. Bruce may have had a reputation to upkeep, but Joker didn’t. He ducked his head and sank his teeth into the junction where neck met shoulder. He bit down too hard, too deep. Broke the skin and drew blood to the surface. Joker tasted just like he smelled. Like corroded batteries and bullets. He was addicted. 

Bruce drew back and watched, transfixed, as crimson welled up at the wound and stained that stark white skin. It dripped down into the collar of his green shirt. Suddenly Bruce was  _ desperate  _ to get at the body underneath. He fisted his fingers in the flimsy material and tore it down the front so hard Joker’s neck cracked. 

“That was expensive, you know!” Joker squealed, sounding positively delighted. The hands under Bruce’s now wrinkled shirt flexed and tore the buttons right out of their holes. He always had to get even.  _ Good _ . Now Bruce had an excuse not to return to the party. Joker sneered, baring his teeth. “If you’re going to make me bleed, I get to  _ return the favor _ .” 

**_Nothing quite like the feel of something new._ **


End file.
